


Birds of A Feather

by Pennyplainknits



Category: DCU - Comicverse, NCIS
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-30
Updated: 2009-12-30
Packaged: 2017-10-05 12:24:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/41692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pennyplainknits/pseuds/Pennyplainknits
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An odd case leads to advice from some unusual quarters for Gibbs and the team.  My cross over was Tim McGee, Tim Drake. <br/>Beta by <a href="http://bluespirit-star.livejournal.com/profile"><img/></a><a href="http://bluespirit-star.livejournal.com/"><b>bluespirit_star</b></a></p><p><b>Disclaimer</b> NCIS belongs to Belisarius Productions and CBS.  Nightwing, Robin and Batman belong to DC comics.  This is a work of transformative fiction and no infringement is intended.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Birds of A Feather

**Author's Note:**

> I broke up with DC comics for good around the time they killed Bart Allen (I love you Impulse!) so this has no resemblence to current Batman canon. It's set after Infinite Crisis, but that'a about it as far as timelines go.

"We've got a case," Gibbs said, tossing Ziva the keys. "Throckmorton Cove, Chief Petty Officer, found dead, not a mark on him."

He glared at them. McGee quickly tucked his notepad into his backpack and stood, nudging Tony to draw his attention away from the screen.

"Well, come on, don't just stand there!" Gibbs barked, striding towards the elevator.

"Boss, hey, Boss," Tony called, running to catch up, "What ever happened to Ziva never being allowed to drive anywhere ever again?"

Ziva smiled sweetly, spinning the key chain round on her index finger.

"You broke rule number one, Tony," she said.

"You don't talk about Fight Club?" Tony quipped.

"Hah! I know that one, Tony. No, rule number one is 'you never spill Gibbs's first coffee of the day.' "

"Even I know that one," McGee said, slapping Tony on the back, and following Ziva.

***

The body was pristine, incongruous in the light undergrowth at the side of the road. Chief Petty Officer Sands really did look like he was just sleeping, McGee thought as he sketched the scene.

Ducky levered himself up from beside the body, dusting off his knees.

"Jethro, remind me again what last night's weather was?"

"Mild, pretty average for this time of year. Why, Ducky?" Gibbs asked.

"Well, if I didn't know better, I'd say our Chief Petty Officer froze to death."

"But you do know better," Gibbs prompted, "so what killed him?"

"That, my dear Jethro, will have to wait until we get him back," Ducky said, "but at the moment, I have no idea."

***

McGee shook his head, trying to clear it. Last night's late night must be catching up with him, because he was certain he was seeing things out of the corner of his eyes as he sketched, flashes of black and red. He felt eyes on the back of his head, like he was being watched.

"Hey guys, did you see that?" he asked, as once again he got the impression of _something_ just outside the range of his vision.

"See what?" Ziva asked.

"I, nothing, I guess. I just keep thinking I'm seeing someone, but when I look up they aren't there."

"Are you feeling alright McGee?" Ziva put her hand on his forehead.

"Yeah, I'm just tired- had a late night," McGee said.

"I told you those phone sex lines were bad news," Tony said, swinging his bag up onto this shoulder.

"Bite me," Tim said.

"You're not my type," Tony grinned.

***

"Anything yet, Abby?" McGee asked, propping his chin on her shoulder.

She batted her hand at his head. "No, just like you asked five minutes ago, nothing. Why are you so interested in this case?"

"It's just, _weird_. His service record was exemplary, no one had a bad word to say about him, and he just turns up, dead, not a mark on him, nothing on his tox screen that makes sense, and Ducky says if he didn't know it was impossible he'd think Sands died of exposure."

" 'Weird?' That's all you've got?" Abby asked, peering down the microscope at the sample of Sands' uniform.

"Oh, and you weren't all excited about crop circles?" McGee asked, nudging her aside to look at the slide.

"They're a legitimate phenomenon, Timmy," she said, taking her place at the microscope. "Hmmmm," she said after a minute.

"What?"

"There's some kind of weird residue on the fabric, I'll see if I can isolate it," Abby said, doubtfully.

"Anything Abs, I'm this close to blaming freeze rays."

"You're closer than you think."

McGee whipped is head up and stared at the figure, standing with its back to him.

It was like some kind of _Superhero_.

"I wouldn't bother with the panic button," the figure said, turning. "I disabled it, and, the security camera. Besides, you're in no danger."

Abby snatched her hand away almost guiltily.

The man-or boy, McGee couldn't tell, but he didn't sound old- was all in red and black. Red leggings, what looked like red Kevlar body armour, black knee boots, black elbow-length gauntlets, black cape, and a small black mask, covering his eyes. He looked slight, but strong, and his hair was black and messy. He stood at ease, relaxed despite looking completely incongruous in the lab.

"How did you get in here?" McGee asked at last.

"Believe me, it was not a challenge."

"Who the hell are you?" Abby asked.

Out of the corner of his eye McGee saw her lean on the intercom link to the morgue, turning it on.

"By the time the good Doctor Mallard realises what's happening, I'll be gone. You can call me Robin. We're in the same line of work."

"I doubt it," McGee said.

"I have my methods, you have yours. I'm a detective, same as you."

"You were at the crime scene," McGee realised. "I knew I wasn't imagining it."

Robin inclined his head.

"I'm telling you this, because I don't want your boss blundering in-"

"Gibbs _doesn't_-" Abby broke in

"And putting himself in danger. But, I also don't have time to deal with this, so I'll tell you this for free. Freeze rays don't just belong in comic books."

"What do you-" McGee began, but then Robin did something complicated with something on his belt. There was a bright flash, a bang, and smoke filled the room.

"Down!" McGee yelled, pulling Abby down with him under the bench and tucking her face into the crook of his neck. The smoke was thick and dark green, clinging. Tim screwed his eyes shut.

"McGee, I'm fine, let me up," Abby protested. "The smoke is gone, let me up."

Tim cracked open his eyes. The smoke had cleared a little, and their mystery visitor was had disappeared.

"Great," he said, standing, and pulling Abby up after him. "Just great."

"That was _weird_," Abby agreed. "Although, Timmy, I kind of liked you manhandling me."

Tim felt the blush rise, but said, grinning, "That's not news, Abs."

"McGee! Abby!"

Gibbs tore through the door, followed by Tony and Ziva, weapons drawn.

"Are you alright? What the hell happened?"

"We're OK," McGee said. "Did Ducky call you?"

Gibbs slapped him around the back of his head.

"Panic button McGee. Ring any bells?"

"It's disabled" Abby chimed in. "Gibbs, it was super-weird. We had a, a _caped crusader_-"

Tony started to laugh and McGee shot him a look.

"She's telling the truth," he protested.

"Gibbs," Ziva called, pointing to something on the bench. She grabbed some tweezers and picked it up. It was a business card, plain cream and unremarkable. Everyone crowded round to look.

"Dr. Victor Fries." Tim read aloud. The writing was neat, block capitals, with an R in a circle the only signature.

"R for Robin?" he asked, turning to Abby.

She shrugged, "Guess so."

"Ah!!" Ziva yelped. As they looked on the card began to smoke and curl at the edges.

"Refrigerator!" Abby shouted, but before Ziva could make it the card burst into flames.

"We dealing with Ethan Hunt?" Tony joked, though he looked shaken.

"Tell me everything. From the beginning." Gibbs ordered.

***

"Any luck?" Ziva asked, perching on the edge of the desk.

"Nothing. All I can find is a Victor Fries operating in Gotham years back, but he seems to have disappeared off the face of the earth about the time his wife died. You?" Tim asked.

"Just a lot of shuffleboard. No, no, scuttlebutt. About vigilantes, in Gotham, but nothing concrete. Your little bird does not want to be found."

Tim thumped his head off the desk a few times.

"I'm going down to look at the body, again," he said.

"Tony's already there," Ziva pointed out.

"I'm getting nowhere here," Tim said, getting to his feet.

***

"Probie," Tony greeted him. The drawer housing Sands' body was pulled out, and Tony sat on a stool, studying the body.

"Anything?" Tim asked.

"Nada. You?"

"Just some stories about guys in costumes in Gotham. Bats and Birds and who knows what," Tim said morosely.

"That was doing the rounds when I was in Baltimore, McGullible. That old urban legend is the best you can come up with?"

"I don't know. I'm pretty legendary if I do say so myself."

Tony leaped up, reaching for his shoulder holster, staring at the man who appeared to have come out of thin air.

"This your Robin, Probie?"

"No," McGee said, looking the newcomer over. "This one's taller."

The man chuckled.

"Taller, older, way more handsome." He pushed himself off the wall and sauntered over to study the body. He was tall, with collar-length black hair, high cheekbones, and long legs emphasised by blue and black kevlar. Like Robin, he was masked.

"You don't need your weapon, Tony. I'm just here to talk. I gather my colleague was being typically mysterious?"

"Now, if you know my name, don't you think I should get yours?" Tony asked.

"You can call me Nightwing. And I know more than that." Nightwing looked up, grinning. "Anthony DiNozzo. Former cop, and a _credit_ to the uniform." He sprawled onto a stool and stretched his legs out. Tim was sure he saw Tony give Nightwing a very subtle once-over. Not checking him for weapons. Just plain _checking him out_.

"And Timothy McGee. Or is that Thom E. Gemcity?"

Tim started. "How did you-"

"You going to get to the point any time soon, before I call for back-up?" Tony asked.

Nightwing interlocked his fingers and stretched his arms above his head, body falling into a long graceful arc.

"Anyone ever tell you you're cute when you're frustrated, Tony?"

"Look," Tim broke in before Tony could answer. "All we can find on Fries is that he disappeared about six years ago. If you're trying to help how about actually _helping_? A man is dead! And you just breeze in here with your clues and your capes and your _disappearing business cards_! Is this a joke to you?" He was surprised at how angry he was, but he hated not having all the available information.

It was hard to tell under the mask, but he thought Nightwing looked a bit contrite.

"We're used to dealing with police who know us. Jim Gordon."

"What?" Tim asked.

"Jim Gordon, Gotham PD. He'll vouch for us."

"I've heard of him," Tony said slowly. "But, I'd always thought the stories about people like you were, well, stories."

"I promise I'm a real boy," Nightwing said, smirking.

Tim rolled his eyes. amused despite himself. "Don't encourage him."

Nightwing pulled a USB stick out of one boot and tossed it towards them. Tony caught it.

"Nice hands," he said. "That's got more background on Fries than you'll turn up elsewhere, as well as blueprints for the freeze ray. Fries is dangerous. He needs to be off the streets. Make it stick, gentlemen. Oh, and McGee, Tony?" He reached down and pulled something out of the other boot. "Cover your eyes."

Tim had just the presence of mind to clap one hand over his eyes and the other over Tony's before he heard a sharp bang and smelled smoke.

After about a minute he cracked his eyes open to see the smoke clearing, and Nightwing nowhere to be seen.

"I'm getting sick of that happening," he said.

***

"Let me get this straight," Gibbs said, voice low and quiet. " Not only did you fail to call for backup when a _complete stranger_ appears in the morgue, but you decide to have a nice _chat_?"

"That's about the size of it Boss," McGee said glumly.

"What the hell were you thinking? Did you even get a description? Seeing as _once again_ our cameras were disabled?"

"About 5' 10, 175lbs. Caucasian, black hair, obviously works out. Couldn't see much of his face but he was wearing a black suit with a blue V across the chest. And he had-legs."

"Legs, DiNozzo?" Gibbs asked, dangerously.

"Really, really, long, legs," Tony said a little helplessly.

"Got a thing for the tights, Tony?" Gibbs said.

"Couldn't take his eyes off them," McGee said, enjoying himself.

"_Really_?" Abby asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I was making sure he didn't jump us!" Tony protested.

"You wish," McGee muttered, and flinched as Tony slapped the back of his head.

"If you're finished?" Gibbs said, glaring.

"Sorry, Boss," Tim said.

"Anything else?"

"He said a Gotham cop called Jim Gordon would vouch for him. And he gave us this." Tony held out the USB stick, and Abby snatched it out of his hand.

"I'll get right on it, Gibbs," she said.

Gibbs didn't reply, lost in thought.

"Gibbs, " Ziva asked, "what are you thinking?"

"That a lot of things about our visitors suddenly make sense."

***

"OK, thanks, Jim." Gibbs hung up.

"Boss?" Tony asked. Tim looked up from the blueprints to listen in.

"Sands had a step-brother," Gibbs said, "who's wanted by Gotham PD in connection with several robberies where the security guards froze to death."

"His step brother works for Fries?" Ziva asked.

"There's more. In the past few months Gotham PD have received four tip-offs about potential targets for Fries's gang. They've all been correct."

"Sounds like Mr F's got a mole," Tony said. "They think it's the brother?"

"And Sands was killed to warn him off," Ziva continued.

"Y'think?" Gibbs said irritably. "Now the brother's missing too and we still have no way of finding Fries."

McGee raised his hand.

"I might, um, I have, got a way of finding him."

Gibbs glared at him, so he continued.

"The freeze-ray needs a combination of liquid argons, it's what produces the cold."

"And?" Gibbs prompted.

"Well, some of them are pretty rare. But a supply depot at Norfolk base has a shipment due tomorrow. They're trialling them in some alternate cooling systems."

"Well? Why are you still here?" Gibbs said.

"I'll call the base commander," Ziva said.

"I'll work with Abby to find a way to counteract the freeze ray," Tim said.

"And, as befits a senior field agent I'll oversee it," Tony said, propping his feet on the desk and leaning back on his chair.

At the glare Gibbs gave him he dropped his feet back onto the floor.

"I mean, I'll organise back-up at the stake out, Boss."

"Good," said Gibbs, sipping his coffee. "I want this case closed. Leave the freeze rays to the men in tights."

"Um, Gibbs," Tim asked

"Yeah?"

"Earlier, after Tony told you about Gordon, it almost sounded like you knew Nightwing."

"I don't. But I knew his boss once" Gibbs said, mysterious as ever.

***

"Fries!" Tony called, as the guy in what, even this week, won the prize for the weirdest clothes Tim had ever seen, down to the glass helmet, gingerly lifted a canister onto a cart.

"Freeze!" Tony said again. "Huh, I bet you get that a lot, right?"

"Hilarious," Fries said, hefting his gun. "And what makes you think you can stop me?"

Tony sauntered out onto the warehouse floor. Tim made sure his hand was over the switch, waiting for the signal.

"I get it, you're some kind of supervillain. Although, really, Mr Freeze? What's next, Captain Cold?" Tony scoffed. "You see, I am going to stop you, because I've got three things on my side. I've got the McGeek-"

Tim flippped the switch and the industrial fan heaters concealed around the warehouse roared into life. The air shimmered with heat haze, and Tim saw beads of sweat break out on Tony's forehead, felt sweat start to trickle down his own neck.

"You think a few _heaters_ will stop me?" Fries laughed.

"Hey, can't freeze anything if the ambient temperature is too high. And have you noticed how dry it is?" Tony said, conversationally. "Hardly any water vapour, which means-" Tony took another step forward, "Hardly any ice."

Tim rolled his eyes. Trust Tony to start getting into it.

"Amateurs! I've faced down the Bat, you really think a few pretend cops scare me?" Fries levelled the gun at Tony's chest. "I'll cool that cocky attitude."

Tim gritted his teeth and prayed that he and Abby were right.

Two shots rang out, knocking the gun out of Fries's hand. Tony was on him and cuffing him as Ziva and Gibbs slid out of their hiding places.

"Oh, and Fries? The other two things? One ex-Marine sniper, and one Mossad super-agent."

"Tony," Ziva chided, but she was smiling.

"So you see, Fries, I keep a cool head in a crisis."

"Tony," Gibbs said warningly.

"You could say it'll be a cold day in hell by the time you get out of jail," Tim suggested.

"McGee..."

"This'll be your last ice-capade," Ziva said triumphantly.

"Enough!" barked Gibbs.

"Sorry Boss,"

"Just get me out of here," Fries groaned.

***

**Epilogue**

"Leroy Jethro Gibbs."

The voice was deep, a touch gravelly, and screamed old money, Tim thought. It suited its owner, tall, solid, black hair threaded with silver, and a suit that rivaled Tony's Armani for style. Tim immediately filed him away for the playboy with a dark past in the next Tibbs novel.

"Bruce Wayne," Gibbs said. "A surprise to see you here."

"Oh, you know me, Jethro," Wayne said, waving airily with the hand that held his champagne flute. "Wayne Enterprises organised this Navy benefit, I could hardly not show up, now could I?"

He took a sip of champagne.

"And how are things at NCIS?"

"Well, we've been working on some cold cases, but we've been lucky to have some support from other agencies, both traditional and otherwise." Gibbs said.

"Well, that sounds very technical, and I'm going to pretend I know what you're talking about," Wayne chuckled quietly. "Won't you introduce me to your delightful companion?"

"Ziva David, Bruce Wayne," Gibbs said shortly.

"Charmed," Wayne said, taking Ziva's hand.

"Pleased to meet you," she said.

"And the rest of my team. Timothy McGee, and Tony DiNozzo."

"A pleasure gentlemen." Wayne's handshake was brief, and Tim felt unexpected calluses across the palm of his hand.

"You didn't come alone Bruce," Gibbs said, nodding at the boy in his late teens standing next to Wayne.

"How remiss. My ward, Tim Drake."

"Hi," the young man, who had been absorbed in his food, looked up, black hair falling into his face."

"And Dick is- around somewhere," Wayne said, with his little laugh. "No doubt flirting with cocktail waitresses."

"Bruce, are you ruining my reputation?"

"No, you manage that all by yourself," Drake said, tartly.

"Ahh, little brother. You'll understand when you grow up." Dick-McGee assumed the newcomer was Dick- ruffled Tim's hair, and Tim scowled up at him.

"Last time I saw you, you were younger than Tim here," Gibbs said. "Good to see you again Dick."

"Likewise," Dick said, grinning.

Dick was slim, but broad shouldered. He had longish black hair contrasting sharply with blue eyes, and high cheekbones. He shook hands with Tony, squeezing briefly.

"Dick Grayson."

"Tony DiNozzo. Love the suit."

"A man of taste. I like that," Dick said, and _winked_.

"You ever get the feeling Tony's not telling us something?" Ziva asked softly, watching Tony and Dick flirt.

"Ziva, the past fortnight has involved freeze rays, supervillans, and grown men running around in tights. Tony flirting with a guy is the least of my concerns."

Tim watched as Tony cupped Dick's elbow, steered him over to the dessert table, and leaned in close, talking softly. He'd seen it all before, and it generally ended with Tony leaving early, and turning up late for work the next day, with a very big grin.

"You're the author of the Tibbs novels, aren't you?"

Tim Drake apparently made no sound as he moved. McGee jumped, the champagne sloshing over the rim of his glass.

"That's not common knowledge. How did you know that?"

"Oh," Tim said, and a kid not even twenty should not have a smile that enigmatic. "A little bird told me."

End


End file.
